Face Down
by Marrilyn
Summary: Rowena, stuck in an abusive relationship with Lucifer, calls Dean for help. All human AU.
1. Trapped

**I hope you guys like it!**

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 **~ Trapped ~**

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Rowena MacLeod had had a hard life, but she was content with what she'd made of herself.

After years and years of failure, she'd decided to open an occult shop, hoping to earn at least some money; her expensive gowns and jewelry weren't going to pay for themselves, and her teenage son still had school to finish – if he finished it at all, considering the way he'd been acting ever since he started hanging out with those impudent hooligans he called friends.

There were also costs of property he had a tendency to damage, though ever since she'd become friends with that annoying, but incredibly handsome policeman, Fergus appeared to have cleaned up his act.

Rowena thought he might have developed a crush on officer Winchester. Her son's bisexuality was no secret. As far as parent-child relationships go, they weren't close; he'd only told her he was bisexual because he thought she'd be outraged and he wanted to push her buttons, and was, for lack of a better term, crestfallen to find that she was actually rather open minded when it came to sexual preferences.

Fergus, however, never openly admitted his crush. For all she knew, he could have simply admired the man. Still, Rowena had her theories.

Much to her amazement, her small shop had grown quite successful and soon enough she was able to expand it, turning it into a fancy place occult fans from all over the country, as well as plenty of tourists, loved to frequent.

Unfortunately, with popularity came crime, and it wasn't long until thieves started showing up and trashing her beloved shop.

That was how Rowena had become acquainted with the kind officers. There were three of them, partners, all assigned to her part of town.

Castiel Novak was strange. Rowena rather enjoyed talking to him, for the look of complete and utter confusion on his face every time she'd utter a phrase he was unfamiliar with (and with her being Scottish and proud, that was quite frequent) was priceless. He'd always cock his head to the side, frown, and politely ask her to repeat what she had said. This in turn would prompt her to roll her eyes and mumble something rude in Scottish that he wouldn't understand; but she was always somewhat amused by his lack of familiarity with pop culture references and Scottish slang.

Sam Winchester was tall, freakishly so, as she had let him know multiple times by calling him "giant" whenever he'd annoy her, which happened quite often. He was kind, very professional, but stern when needed. She didn't appreciate the way he spoke to her at times, how he rushed her while she was giving statements or pressured her to tell him things she'd have rather kept to herself (every little detail helps, he'd said plenty of times, with emphasis on _detail)._

However, she understood that he was only doing his job and always did her best to cooperate – even if that meant admitting to some things you really shouldn't admit to to a policeman. That, however, didn't mean she didn't roll her eyes here and there, and uttered a few sarcastic remarks that earned her his signature bitchface she'd taken a strange liking to.

The third officer, Dean Winchester, Sam's older brother, was a peculiar one. He was tall, but not as tall as Sam. Muscular, but nowhere near Castiel. His forest green eyes were a few shades lighter than Rowena's, complementing his short, dirty blond hair. He was the one who always challenged her, who never failed to respond to her sarcasm with even more sarcasm and who was never, not once, afraid to speak his mind.

When she'd be a bitch, he'd openly tell her to tone down the bitchiness. When she'd lie, he'd make sure to point out that lying to him was only going to hurt the likelihood of them catching the people who'd vandalized and robbed her shop.

There was also that one time he suspected her of murder and he didn't let their acquaintanceship stop him from grilling her like he did all the other suspects.

Rowena hated him for that, hated him for making her shake in anger to the point of crying that day, but she also admired his dedication. The man loved his job and was damn good at it.

And, as much as she hated to admit it, she'd developed a certain fondness for the blond officer. Sure, he was a stubborn pain in the arse with the manners of a Neanderthal and the dining habits of a toddler, but there was something about him that made her want to push him against the nearest wall and fuck the living daylights out of him. Perhaps it was his good looks and charm, or the fact that he, unlike many others, challenged her instead of walking away with his tail between his legs.

It wasn't one-sided, either. She'd caught him checking out her ass plenty of times, and whenever she'd wear a gown that'd show a generous amount of cleavage, he'd have trouble keeping his eyes locked with hers. Flirty smiles and winks were a common occurrence; he behaved like that around all women, but would try really hard around those he found attractive, which only further fueled her darkest fantasies.

Not that she'd ever dare act on them.

Rowena's eyes filled with dread as they met her boyfriend's angry ones. They sure seemed innocent, those beautiful baby blues, but there was darkness in them; darkness Rowena had become accustomed to ever since their relationship evolved from a casual fling into something more serious.

Lucifer Shurley was a dangerous man whom not many dared cross. His blond hair was messy, a few shades lighter than Dean's. Combined with those baby blue eyes, it made him look strangely sweet, almost angelic, but Rowena knew better.

Before it was all flowers and expensive little presents. He took her out to expensive restaurants and took her shopping to the most exquisite of boutiques. He told her he loved her every single day, made promises he swore to keep, and treated her like a queen she always thought of herself as.

It was when he moved in with her and Fergus that the problems started. At first he'd just scream at her. She'd scream right back; Rowena wasn't one to walk away from a fight, especially when she'd be blamed for something that couldn't possibly be her fault.

That worked the first few times, but soon he started getting even angrier at her retaliation and would spew horrendous threats and insults until she'd shut her mouth and lock herself in the bathroom to escape his deadly glare.

Everything would always be fine the next morning. He'd make her breakfast, kiss her cheek, and act like the perfect boyfriend he used to be. But Rowena knew – she knew he was far from that perfection he presented himself as.

He'd used his charm to draw her in and, once he felt secure enough that she wouldn't leave, he'd allowed his true nature to surface, trapping her in a net she couldn't escape even if she tried. By this point, she was too afraid of him to even think of leaving, let alone actually attempting to.

The first time he hit her was when she, as usual, talked back to him after he called her some of the many nasty names in his rather impressive vocabulary. She was left speechless, stunned by the suddenness of the slap. Shooting him a glare, she once again locked herself in the bathroom and cried her eyes out until she fell asleep sitting with her back pressed against the door.

It started happening more frequently, and soon she could barely cover the bruises with makeup. Fergus, perceptive as ever, had noticed the change in his mom. There was no love and devotion to her demeanor when she was with Lucifer anymore. Now she looked at him with fear, and flinched whenever he'd make a sudden movement.

Fergus may not have been the best student, but he was bright. He could see what was going on. He'd told her countless of times how stupid she was being, and at times even resorted to crying and begging her to leave. He didn't seem to understand why she couldn't simply kick Lucifer's sorry ass out and free herself from his terror.

Rowena, herself, couldn't understand it. She knew perfectly well how grave the situation was, yet something deep inside her was holding her back. By now, Lucifer's grip on her was too strong for her to fight it. She was trapped in his web of abuse and there was no escaping.

It was then that Fergus had started to stay out late again. It took them years to repair their broken relationship, and her newest hookup, as he'd called it, had managed to ruin that. There were times when he'd disappear without saying a word, and when he'd reappear days later, he'd simply gather some clothes and snap that he'd stay with friends for a couple more days. Which friends – he never said. Rowena didn't even bother to ask anymore, for all attempts she'd made at learning anything from him had been futile.

A part of Rowena was glad he was away from Lucifer. Her boyfriend had never hit her son, mostly because Fergus, unlike her, knew how to hold his own and didn't let someone he considered a stranger push him around. Still, him not being at home meant he didn't have to listen to their arguments. He didn't have to look disappointed every time he'd defend her from Lucifer's violence and see her crawl back to him the very next day, acting like nothing happened.

If she had to lose him to keep him safe, so be it. Perhaps it was what she deserved for neglecting him for most of his life, blaming him from his absent father's crimes. She was a terrible mother and she paid the price. Maybe this way, by letting him come and go as he pleased, she could make up for being such a disappointment.

This night was the same as any other. Lucifer came home late and, without a greeting, started screaming at her for not making him any dinner. At the very start of their relationship, she had made it perfectly clear that she didn't, under any circumstances, cook. That didn't stop him from getting in her face, waving a forefinger a threatening manner and calling her things even she would be too ashamed to say.

"Make yer own fuckin' dinner!" she shouted at him, shoving him away. Just because she lost most of their fights didn't mean she couldn't put up a fight of her own. Her hard life had taught her to never falter, never show weakness in the face of danger. "I'm not yer servant!"

"I worked my ass off all day to afford those rags you call clothes! I don't think a dinner is too much to ask!" he exclaimed, face red with anger.

"And what do ye think I've been doin' all day? Ye seem to have forgotten I have a shop to run!"

"Think I don't know what you were up to? That lover boy of yours was here, wasn't he?" he accused.

Rowena frowned in confusion. "What're ye talkin' about?"

"Don't play dumb with me, Rowena! I've seen the way you look at that cop. Dean Winchester, is it? I'm not dumb. I know you've been fucking him behind my back."

Out of everything he'd said to her, none had ever been as outrageous as this one **.** Her and Dean? Yes, he was handsome, and there was obvious mutual attraction, but she would never dare cheat on Lucifer. She valued her life too much to do that, for she was certain her boyfriend would kill her if he was to find out about the affair.

And he would find out. Lucifer always knew everything, saw everything. He could read her like a book; she could never hide anything from him, and if she tried, it wouldn't end well for her.

"Ye're insane!"

"Am I? Am I really?" He grabbed a hold of her chin, fingers digging into the sensitive flesh.

Rowena shuddered, chills of dread creeping down her spine. She swallowed, breaths fastening, heartbeat racing, her eyes locking with Lucifer's in an intense stare. This wasn't going to end well. The look in his seemingly innocent eyes was that of pure anger – it was only a matter of time before he exploded with rage and did something she'd tell herself she'd never let happen again.

But she would, because she was weak, and she was in too deep to dig herself out right now, after months of enduring his torture. He'd trained her well, turned her into his faithful little puppy who took everything he threw at her without having the heart, or spine, to leave.

"The moment I saw you, I knew you were a whore, Rowena. I knew it, but I still gave you a chance. You know why? Because I liked you. I saw potential in you." He leaned forwards, face so close to hers that their noses were almost touching. "I should've known you aren't worth it. A whore like you never changes."

Rowena's eyes narrowed in anger. How dare he tell her that? It was no secret that she'd had plenty of lovers, but she was no whore. She was perfectly aware of her attributes, aware of how attractive and desirable she was, and had no problem using it to her advantage when the situation called for it.

Her body – her rules. It would be a shame to let a perfect weapon like that go to waste.

"Fuck ye," she hissed, her tiny hands firmly pressing into his chest to push him away.

He swung his hand at her, his palm connecting with her cheek in a sharp, painful slap. "How dare you lay a hand on me?"

Rowena brought her hand to her cheek, cradling the bruise that was beginning to form. Burning with anger, she glared at her boyfriend, quickly regaining her composure. She was sick of this; sick of his abuse, sick of his violence, sick of everything to do with him. She may not have had the strength to leave, but she sure could stand up for herself, even if it killed her.

"How dare _I_ lay I hand on ye?" The irony of his comment wasn't lost on her. "How dare _ye?"_

Without thinking of the consequences, she slapped him right back, her long, perfectly manicured nails grazing the surface of his skin. Blood pooled atop the small, light scratches, a single drop sliding down his reddened cheek.

"I've had it with yer nonsense!" she snapped, voice trembling as she spoke. She may have gathered some courage, but she was still scared of him. Lucifer was an intimidating man; his tall, muscular form could crush her tiny one without breaking a sweat. She was under no delusion that she could win this fight, but she sure as hell could put up a struggle. "I'm not yer punching bag, Lucifer. This has been goin' on for far too long. I want ye out of my house right this instant!"

It was time she took care of herself once again. She wanted him out of her life, far away from her as possible. She wanted her old self back, and she wanted her son to trust her again, like he had before Lucifer showed his true face and started pushing her around like she was nothing but a doll for him to play with.

Growling, Lucifer threw a fist at her. The force of the blow knocked her straight down, and she yelped as pain shot through her body, burning hot and strong.

"Think it's gonna be that easy, red?" He smirked at the sight of her writhing on the floor. "You're nothing without me! _Nothing!"_

He placed a well aimed kick to her stomach. Rowena screamed, instinctively curling into a fetal position before she pushed herself up on her elbows and started crawling back. Dread spread across her face, sucking all the visible anger into oblivion and replacing it with fear of things to come, things that he would do to her.

Lucifer wasn't one to be crossed, especially when he was blind with rage.

"Ye're wrong," she told him, her voice a tad softer, almost a whisper in comparison to what it was just a moment ago. Seeing him like this always frightened her, made her scared for her life. She could be as brave and strong as she wanted; but once he started throwing punches, the courage vanished.

Lucifer followed after her, one foot after the other in a slow, careful swagger, a look of pure amusement crossing his features.

"Am I? Look at yourself."

He motioned to her trembling form resembling a wounded, cowardly puppy.

Perhaps that was what she was – a coward who couldn't stand up for herself. A miserable nobody who didn't have it in her to throw a stranger she'd been living with out of her house. A shallow shell of a person who used to have it all, and was now afraid of her own shadow.

No, she told herself, remembering the day Fergus' father left the hospital after she'd given birth, promising to come back, but doing so, never bothering to even lay his eyes on his son. She was scared then; scared of being a single mother, scared of all the responsibilities and obligations. Scared of making the wrong choice and ruining both her and her child's lives.

She didn't let those fears define her. She pushed through life with her head held high and raised her child as best as she could. She'd made plenty of mistakes, said and did things she'd grown to regret, but she made it. Her son was a man now and, even if she refused to admit it, she couldn't have been more proud of him. She had her own successful business and lived the life she'd always dreamed of. Life was good.

Long ago she promised herself she'd never be weak again and she meant to keep that promise for it was the only bit of strength she had left in this darkness Lucifer had imprisoned her in.

If she could raise her child all on her own, without even thinking of asking anyone for help, let alone accepting it, she could stand up to Lucifer.

"Pathetic!" he spat venomously.

"Ye're right – I _am_ pathetic," she said, looking him dead in the eye.

A single tear slid down her cheek, smudging the caked blood adorning her chin.

"I've put up with yer bullshit for months. Any other woman would've already kicked ye out. But not me – no, I kept givin' ye second chances, thinkin' ye'd change. Because ye _love_ me. I'm yer queen. Isn't that what ye've said?"

She let out a small chuckle.

"I actually believed that. That _is_ pathetic."

She slowly raised herself to her feet, the stinging in her abdomen making her hiss. There were going to be bruises later on. She could already picture them, big and purple, covering the entirety of her stomach and ribs.

The price of dating Lucifer Shurley.

"But I've had enough. I don't want ye in my house. I don't want ye anywhere near me and my son. We're done, Lucifer. Ye can hit me, beat me, throw me around. Ye can do whatever ye want to me, but that won't change the fact that I loathe ye."

She got in his face, scowling at him in mad fury.

"I've loathed ye for a while now. I was too much of a coward to say it to yer face before, but I've got nothin' to lose anymore. Fergus already hates me. I hate myself, as well, for never havin' it in me to tell ye to go fuck yerself. Well, I have it in me now and that's exactly what I'm tellin' ye." She took a short breath before hissing: "Go. Fuck. Yerself."

Lucifer gritted his teeth then, in a swift movement, his hand was around her neck, pushing her back against the wall. She gasped as strong fingers pressed into her sensitive skin, squeezing hard enough to leave her struggling for breath.

"I'd watch my tongue if I were you." He stared her down like a vulture securing its prey. "I must admit, though, I underestimated you. Didn't think you had it in you."

He brought one hand to her bruised cheek, giving it a caress that was almost affectionate. Rowena shuddered at his touch, her heart beating so fast she thought it would explode. All her courage from a moment ago was gone, replaced by sheer agony. He was going to hurt her. He was going to hurt her bad, and there was nothing she could do to stop him.

A part of her was glad she managed to stand up for him, but the other, saner part chastised her for opening her mouth. She should've taken what he'd thrown at her and locked herself in the bathroom, like every other time they'd gotten into a confrontation.

No, she told herself. She was in the right here. He had no right to hurt her like this, no right to push her around and abuse her. If there was anyone who should have felt guilty, it was him.

"I always knew you were a clever girl," Lucifer continued. "But, sadly for you, not clever enough. You see, Rowena, I'm a selfish man. I don't like to share. If you think you can kick me out just so you can cozy up with that lover boy of yours, you are gravely mistaken. You're _mine._ I've claimed you. I own you. You belong to _me._ And if I can't have you, sweetheart, I'll make sure that pig can't, either."

Rowena whimpered, tears pouring down her rosy cheeks. She should have known it wasn't going to be that easy. Lucifer was possessive; if he'd claimed her as his, that was what she was, and there was nothing she or anyone else could say or do to make him change his mind. There was no doubt in her mind that he would act out on his threats, and she was damn sure he would act on them brutally.

"He's not my lover," she choked, hoping to all deities that he believed her, but she knew it was futile. Once Lucifer made up his mind about something, there was no changing it. He decided that she was a cheater, that Dean Winchester was her lover, so, in his twisted, deranged mind, that was the truth.

"Don't lie to me!" he snarled, giving her neck one final squeeze before releasing it and slapping her across the face.

Rowena yelped, taking in large, deep breaths through the stinging pain in her face. Just when she was about to mutter a reply to his claim, he hit her again, this time with a fist, and her head flew sideways, connecting with the wall with a loud, painful thud.

She screamed, which only seemed to anger him further for he hit her, hard and strong, once more. She fell down, her tiny body slapping against the hardwood floor. He didn't give her time to recover before straddling her and pinning her wrists down, the look on his face that of complete madness.

"You're a dirty whore, Rowena, but you're _my_ dirty whore. I'm not letting you go," he whispered threateningly.

"Please," she begged, her split lip trembling. The iron taste of blood burned on her tongue. "Don't hurt me."

Lucifer smiled in what could only be described as sweet, sadistic satisfaction. "Oh, it's _please_ now." He chuckled at his bad, over the top impression of her thick accent. "No more _go fuck yerself._ No more _I loathe ye._ Just _please. Don't hurt me."_ He scoffed. "You are so miserable, Rowena. If only your pig fucker could see you now… Think he'd still wanna be with a weakling such as yourself?"

He was right, in a way. If Dean could see her now, he'd probably laugh at her. He'd consider her weak, a waste of his time. Unlike him, the strong, fearless policeman, she was just a wee girl who, despite denying her weakness and claiming to be proud, couldn't even get her boyfriend to leave her alone. What chance did she have with a man like that?

She was shaken out of her thoughts by another slap. Lucifer grabbed a hold of her hair, yanking her head up to his face. She hissed, eyes narrowing as they met with his in a defiant stare that was supposed to be brave.

How brave could she look, with welts on her face and blood pouring down her nose? She had fooled herself into thinking she was something she wasn't, and now she was paying the price. In a way, Lucifer was her karma for all the horrible things she'd done just because she could, because she thought it gave her power, when in actuality she'd only been fooling herself into believing a lie that would never come to truth.

A lie that she was something when she was really nothing.

"When he leaves you, and I know he will," Lucifer continued, "you'll come running to me with your tail between your legs, begging me to take you back. Because that's who you are, Rowena – a worthless, useless, whiny little bitch. Your pig will see that."

With that he gave her another slap that made her head spin, then got to his feet and, after a final kick to her ribs, headed for the door.

"I'm going out for dinner since, y'know, you didn't make any." He smiled, and in that moment he looked like he did before his violence surfaced – kind and loving, a perfect, doting boyfriend every woman could only wish for. Like the horrific violence he'd inflicted on her had never happened. "I'll see you in the morning, sweetheart."

Rowena just stared straight, afraid to move a muscle. She stared at the closed door; stared at expensive, exquisite wood that formed it. Stared at the place where Lucifer stood just mere moments ago.

Then, as the reality of him being truly, honestly gone dawned on her, she wept, loudly, madly, curling into a fetal position. The sudden movement hurt, but she paid no attention to pain. She just wrapped her arms around her knees, hugging them to her chest like a child craving comfort.

How did it get this far? How did she _let_ it get this far? She didn't deserve this – no one did! After all the hardships she'd endured in her lifetime, she was supposed to be happy, supposed to enjoy her hard-earned wealth and live out the rest of her days in harmony.

Not be abused by a two-faced maniac with daddy issues.

The bitter silence of the large house ate away at her desperate cries before they slowly died down, fading into gloom nothingness that surrounded her. Nothingness that was the entirety of her being, the core of her existence.

Lucifer was right – she was nothing without him. Who would want a pathetic creature such as her? Even her own son avoided spending time with her. She'd managed to lose the last bit of spine she had, and it cost her dearly. She had no family to turn to, no friends to trust. Just herself, and considering she was the one who fell for Lucifer's lies and didn't have it in her to kick his sorry ass out of her own house, that wasn't much.

She knew one thing – she had to do something before he killed her for she had no doubt in her mind that he was capable of it. His actions these past few weeks proved it. Only, what could she do when everyone she trusted abandoned and betrayed her?

One name instantly popped into her mind and Rowena shook her head at the mere thought. No way, she told herself. There was no way in hell she was going to ask _him_ for help.

 _"If only your pig fucker could see you now… Think he'd still wanna be with a weakling such as yourself?"_

She almost chuckled. Lucifer had a point there. If Dean saw her like this, he'd probably laugh in her face. A weakling such as her would be waste of his time.

Wouldn't it?

Dean was a policeman. His job was to help people in need, to assist them and make sure that justice was served. The two of them were prone to sarcastic banter and nasty quips, but, when she gave it some though, he'd never thought her weak. Not once had he sent her a wrong look or said the wrong thing. Not once had he pitied her or insulted her out of sheer malice. They snarked at each other, yes, but that was all in good fun.

Dean Winchester was a gentleman. She'd never witnessed him mistreat anyone, let alone a victim of a crime. Hell, even when he questioned her when she was a murder suspect, he never mistreated her.

And he wouldn't mistreat her now.

Gathering all her remaining strength, she pushed herself to her feet and limped over to the bathroom, locking the door behind her and leaning against it for support.

Was she really going to do this? Was she ready to trust Dean Winchester with her darkest secret?

She almost chuckled at her misery. It's not like she had any dignity left. Lucifer made sure to suck every last bit out, leaving her an empty, faded shell of a person she used to be. That signature pride of hers was long gone, having disappeared the moment she let Lucifer lay a hand on her without putting up much of a fight.

She found Dean's number in her contact list and pressed it, bringing the phone to her ear. She managed to calm down a bit, but she was still trembling like an addict aching for a fix. Perhaps that was a good thing – if she was upset, Dean was less likely to question her, and right now she really wasn't up to going into details about what happened.

The only thing she wanted was to get away from Lucifer, to get away from his violence and threats. She could talk later; right now she just needed to get to safety, and Dean was the only person she could count on.

"Hello?"

The sound of his voice made her stiffen. To be honest, she didn't expect him to answer that fast. The last time they saw each other, she gave him attitude that he didn't appreciate and in turn he said some things that made her fear he wouldn't even bother to come.

Well, it was worth a try. It's not like she had anything to lose.

Breathing hard, she uttered: "Dean?"

"What do you want?"

He was clearly still bitter, but there was no malice to the tone of his voice.

"Ca-can ye come over to my house?" she choked, tears once again spilling down her face.

Sensing the pain in her voice, he quickly grew serious, petty arguments forgotten in an instant. "What happened? You okay?"

So he really did care. The thought prompted her pull on a small smile. "I need help."

"I'll be right over."

Just as he ended the call, Rowena burst into tears, her loud cries echoing throughout the house.

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 **This story is a gift for my dear friend BewitchedSquirrel. She ships Dean and Rowena and loves rescue themes, so I figured I'd combine them. She's the one who introduced me to The Red Jumpsuit Apparatus' song Face Down, which inspired me to write this story. Hope you enjoy it, hun!**

 **I would like to thank my bro zoe19blink for helping me with editing and grammar. I'm extremely grateful for your help! I couldn't have done it without you!**


	2. Freed

**Thank you for reading, reviewing, favoriting, and/or following the story, everyone! I appreciate all the feedback.  
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 **~ Freed ~**

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Dean Winchester was bored.

It was Sam who thought him taking a few days off would be good for him. Dean didn't really know why he listened to him for it was something he never did. He did his own thing, lived his own life. He didn't need his hippie brother to dictate what he should and shouldn't do.

Yet for some reason he decided to do as Sam asked and took a week off work.

A week of hell.

So when Rowena called him to ask for help, he readily ran to the car, his beloved Impala, and headed for her mansion.

To be honest, seeing her name flashing on his screen hadn't thrilled him. He wondered what the hell she wanted, in the middle of the night of all times. The last time he saw her, she acted like a diva – even more so than usual – and at one point called him a bloody bampot. Whatever that meant. Dean wasn't good with Scottish slang; he wasn't good with any slang, let alone foreign one.

He in turn told her the next time her shop got robbed he'd take his sweet time getting there.

And he intended to act on that promise, but when she'd said she needed help, when he'd heard the helplessness in her uncharacteristically weak voice, concern washed over him, replacing the initial irritation, and the only thing he could think of was getting to her as fast as he could.

Rowena annoyed the hell out of him, but there was something about her that made it hard for him to resist her. Perhaps it was that thick accent of hers that was like music to his ears, or the fiery, bouncy curls of her hair, or the elegant gowns she appeared to have an endless supply of.

Dean couldn't quite put his finger on it; he just knew that he liked her, _liked_ liked her, and whenever he was called to her shop following a break in, he looked forward to seeing her. It had gotten to the point where her crazy insults (most of which he didn't understand – not that he'd ever admit that out loud. He still had a reputation to uphold) and the following banter started making his day.

She was a few years older than him, but damn, did her years suit her well. She was no model he was used to seeing in magazines, or a bimbo actress from his Asian porn videos; just a woman who looked her age and wore it good, with pride and poise most women could only dream of.

She was a raw, untainted beauty, as elegant and regal as she was deadly. He'd seen her make the toughest of criminals cry for their mommies with just her glare. Those she'd confront after they'd be caught after robbing her would never, ever dare step foot near her shop again, let alone in it. She had that air of danger about her, darkness she could unleash with a single curl of those blood red lips.

Which was why Dean wondered what the hell she was doing with Lucifer Shurley.

Thanks to his job in the law enforcement, Dean was quite familiar with the Shurley family. It wasn't rare for the police to be called to their home, with complaints raging from loud arguing to things being thrown out the windows into neighbors' yards. And, as was the case with Gabriel, the whacko son of an otherwise whacko family, running around the street naked at three in the morning.

His excuse was that he was high. Which happened to be true, but he was still charged with indecent exposure and fined a large sum his daddy readily paid.

Because of course he did. Money fixes everything, right?

Besides being a surprisingly successful Stephen King-wannabe indie author, Chuck Shurley, the patriarch of the Shurley family, was known for two things: sleeping around and being a shitty father to his kids.

His eldest son, Michael, was recently arrested for stealing money from his own company.

His other son, Gabriel, the modern hippie, juggled between dealing marijuana and producing (and starring in) low budget porn flicks (which, in Dean's humble opinion, were horrible. Terrible production quality).

His daughter, Anna, has been in a mental asylum since her early twenties.

And Lucifer, the most famous Shurley brother, was a former Harward graduate turned local thug when daddy's money stopped financing his drug, booze, and hooker habits. There were rumors he was the leader of an infamous street gang connected to several brutal murders, but so far none have been proven true. Lucifer was a cunning bastard; a monster like him knew how to cover his tracks.

Unless those tracks happened to be bruises on Rowena's face. Not even top quality makeup could cover those up.

The moment he saw him hanging around her, Dean knew there would be trouble. He'd warned her, told her all about Lucifer's criminal activities, but she'd been adamant that he'd changed.

Still, Dean had given her his number in case there was any trouble.

Not long after they'd announced they were moving in together, Dean had noticed a change in her. She'd become distant, a tad colder than usual. Her sarcastic remarks lacked their usual fire. She did everything the way she used to, but there was no passion to her actions anymore; everything she did was a rerun, like a thespian repeating the well rehearsed lines.

She used to brighten at the sight of Lucifer. Now, whenever he'd show his face in her shop and come to kiss her, she'd put on a fake smile that could fool most people, but not Dean. Never Dean. He could see what was going on. She was good at hiding it, but Dean was even better at being a cop. Noticing the unnoticeable was what he did for a living.

A million scenarios played in his head as he rushed over to her house. Was her home robbed? Had someone broken in and hurt her?

He wasn't one to jump to conclusions, but a part of Dean knew this had to have had something to do with Lucifer. If this had been a crime alike those in her shop, she would have dialed 911, like she always had.

No, Dean said to himself. This was no usual crime. This was personal.

He swore loudly, gripping the steering wheel so hard he thought it would break. What the hell was she thinking, getting together with a thug? He might have been charming and good at spewing bullshit that sounded genuine to those unfamiliar with his kind, but it was more than obvious that every word that came out of that asshole's mouth was a lie. For god's sake, the dude was named after the devil! What the hell did she expect?

Dean mentally chastised himself. This wasn't her fault. Whatever he'd been doing to her, she was not the one to blame for his madness.

Dean didn't know much about Rowena's past; he'd heard some stories about her hardships, how her father had hurt her and her mother, how her peers had mistreated her, how her son's father had left the day she'd given birth and had never even seen his son.

It was only natural for her to crave affection, and Lucifer happened to be the one to provide it when she most needed it. He drew her in with sweet words and false promises, and before she knew it, she was trapped in his web of violence with no way out.

Dean swore, right then and there, to get her out. He couldn't stand watching her lose herself to that monster anymore. It was time for Rowena MacLeod to be her snarky, bitchy self again, and Dean was going to do everything in his power to make that happen.

He didn't bother ringing the doorbell before bursting in, one hand feeling the gun in his pocket. He doubted Lucifer was here; Rowena wouldn't have called a cop over to her house if he was in close vicinity, but still, Dean had to be prepared. His years on the force taught him to always thread carefully, especially in cases of domestic violence. The perpetrators weren't any nicer to police than they were to their victims.

"Hello?" he called out, looking around the dimly lit hallway.

Pieces of clothing laid around in messy piles on the floor. Some chairs appeared to have been thrown, and a few ridiculously overpriced paintings looked torn. The white, fluffy carpet beneath his feet bore droplets of blood, tiny, but worrisome. Dean's heart jumped in fear and his eyes frantically looked around in search of Rowena.

 _Please, be okay,_ his mind mumbled, praying to all deities he could think of. _Please, be okay._

"Rowena?"

"I'm here."

He breathed out a sigh of relief. Never had he been so happy to hear her voice.

"Where?"

"Upstairs. In the bathroom."

He ran up, knocking on the first door he stumbled on. She fiddled with the key for a moment before unlocking the door and letting him inside.

Dean's eyes widened at the sight of her. Her cheeks were red, bearing marks that resembled fingers; the left one was slightly swollen, its color of royal purple almost matching her dress. There were traced of blood underneath her nose, and her lip lower lip was split. The bruises on her wrists and neck were lighter, but still appeared painful.

Anger exploded from inside him, rushing through his veins like a bad high. His hands balled into angry fists, his teeth gritting in pure, unstoppable rage. _How dare he? How fucking dare he?!_

Rowena averted her eyes, avoiding his worried glance. She didn't want him to see her like that, so vulnerable, so weak, like she probably thought of herself as. But Dean would never think that. She was everything but weak. Only a brave person could live through what she had.

"Shit, Rowena," he cursed, looking her over in concern. "What the hell happened?"

She swallowed before replying. "Lucifer."

"Lucifer? He did this to you?"

He knew it was him, but a part of Dean still couldn't believe that someone she loved and trusted could do that to her. She was far from his favorite person in the world, but she didn't deserve this. No one did.

"Son of a bitch!" he snarled as Rowena nodded timidly.

She flinched at his outburst and Dean took a breath to calm down. He needed get his act together; she'd had enough violence for one night and scaring her could only alienate her from him, and that was something he didn't want. He'd come here to help her, not frighten her into submission, like Lucifer had.

"I'm sorry," he said, his voice softening. "I didn't mean…" He took cautious steps towards her, reaching for her chin so he could observe her injuries. She was reluctant, but allowed his touch, turning her head for him to fully inspect the damage Lucifer had inflicted on her. "You should go to the hospital."

"No!" she protested, stepping away from him.

"Rowena, you could have a concussion!" he reasoned.

She shook her head. "I don't care. I'm not goin' to the hospital yet."

Dean frowned. "Yet? So you'll go?"

"Later. Right now I just…" She smiled through her pain. "I don't know what I want."

"Get out of here, maybe?" Dean offered. "You can't stay here."

"I have nowhere to go."

"My place, then."

She shot him a look of complete and utter disbelief. "Ye can't be serious."

"I am. You won't go to the hospital, and I'm sure as hell not leaving you here with your psycho boyfriend on the loose. Where is Lucifer, anyway?"

"Out," she replied simply. "Said he'd be late."

"Great! That means we should go before he comes back." He took one of her hands into his own, shooting her a look of utmost sympathy. "You can't stay here, Rowena. What he did to you now is nothing in comparison to what he'll do next time, and the time after that, and the time after that. I've seen cases like this and they never end well."

"Think I don't know that?" she snapped, her face reddening in fury. "Newsflash, Dean Winchester – I'm _not_ dumb! I know what he's capable of. I'm the one who let him into this house, remember? I let him do this to me."

Oh, so that's where this was going. "It's not your fault."

"It sure feels like it."

"It's psychology!" he said half-proudly. "Or some shit like that. Look, I have no idea. I'm not Sam. the Walking Encyclopedia."

Now that made her laugh, which in turn prompted him to smile. "Ye're an idiot."

"I am," he admitted. "So? You coming with me?"

She took a moment to ponder on it, then nodded. "Aye."

"Great! And Fergus?"

"He's at some friend's. Don't ask whose. He doesn't tell me anythin' these days. I'll text him later."

Dean nodded. "Let's go."

* * *

Rowena may have thought of Dean Winchester as an uncultured brute, but she couldn't find a flaw in his hospitality. He was a great host; he'd offered her food and drinks, and had let her make herself tea (which she insisted on because no one could make tea as well as her).

The Winchester brothers' apartment was small, but cozy. Rowena had felt like home the moment she'd stepped foot inside. It was far from the glamour she was used to, but she couldn't deny the tiny place had its charm.

At first she was embarrassed to have asked Dean for help, scared of what he might think after seeing her at her worst, all bruised and beaten. But now, after an hour of him doting on her like a loving friend, she'd found it in her to relax.

He didn't think her weak. Not one of his words or actions showed it or had given even a hint of pity. He treated her like a person, like a friend in need of his assistance, and acted accordingly.

Rowena was glad. She didn't know what she would have done had he tried treating her like a victim.

"Feeling better?" he asked, taking a seat next to her on the old, worn out couch.

She took a sip of her tea. "A bit," she replied honestly. The wounds still hurt, but she wasn't frightened anymore. For the first time since she'd gotten to know Lucifer's dark side, she'd felt truly safe. He couldn't hurt her now, not with Dean by her side.

"That's great," he told her, grinning widely.

She nodded. "Aye."

His face suddenly grew serious. "Um, I'm sorry, but I gotta ask. Do you wanna press charges?"

"Aye," she fired straight away, setting her mug down on the table. She gritted her teeth in anger, nails digging deep into the soft fabric covering the couch. She wanted that bastard out of her life, out of her home. She'd rather die than let him step foot inside again. "I want him to pay for everythin' he's done to me."

"Okay," Dean said. "Get some rest. You can go to the station in the morning. But you'll have to go to the hospital first. They need to document your injuries."

"Alright," she agreed. "Can… can ye go with me?"

She didn't want to go through this alone. She needed someone there with her, someone to hold her hand and tell her everything was going to be alright.

"To the hospital?"

"And the police," she added, lowering her gaze in shame. She may have been comfortable with letting him in, but the remaining traces of her pride still loathed the idea of openly showing vulnerability.

"Sure," he said.

Rowena smiled shyly. "Thank ye, Dean."

He offered a smile of his own in return. "Not a problem."

"Not just for that." Rowena swallowed; what she was about to say was difficult. All this vulnerability was taking a tall on her; she wasn't used to being so open with people, yet here she was, entrusting Dean Winchester, of all people, with her deepest, darkest secrets. "Thank ye for everythin' you've done for me. I appreciate it. In my thirty-eight long years, no one's ever bothered to check how I was doin', and ye… Ye came for me the moment I called ye, no questions asked."

For a long, uncomfortable moment, Dean just stared, seemingly at a loss of words. Then, taking in a deep breath, he said: "It's called common decency."

Rowena shook her head. "It's more than that with ye. Ye're a man of honor, Dean Winchester. Noble. Righteous. A _hero."_

She scoffed at the last word. Goody-two shoes people like that used to annoy her, but now they didn't appear to be half bad. And, if she was being honest, Dean wasn't your usual goody-two shoes. Things weren't just black and white for him; he was a lovely shade of grey she'd come to admire. Unlike her, a dark grey lingering on the border of black, he was a steady middle, the perfect balance of darkness and light.

After a few turbulent months with Lucifer, she could use some balance in her life.

Dean shot her his signature childish grin. "That a compliment or an insult?"

"Can't it be both?"

"Guess so," he allowed. "Never took you for a speech type."

Rowena shrugged. "Maybe I've changed."

"Or," he suggested, "you've always had it in you. You just knew how to hide it."

"Everythin's possible."

"It sure is." He took a long look at her, carefully inspecting each and every one of her injuries. "God, Rowena, you scared the hell out of me."

Rowena's face fell. He sure knew how to ruin the moment. "That makes two of us."

Since she started letting Lucifer get away with pushing her around, the only thing that scared her more than him was herself. If she let him slap her and call her names at the very start, what else would she allow him to do later on? How much lower could she stoop? How many more of her own promises could she break by letting that monster treat her like a pet with a leash tied tightly around its neck?

"You can't go back to him," Dean told her. It was more an order than statement. He wanted her to be safe, as far away from Lucifer's violence as possible. "Promise me you won't go back."

"I'm not an idiot," Rowena said, then quietly added: "Anymore."

"Promise me," Dean demanded. He needed to hear her say it.

So she did. "I promise."

He breathed out a relieved sigh. "Good. That's all I wanted to hear."

"I'm a bampot, but I'm not suicidal. I know it's only a matter of time before he kills me."

"That's not gonna happen. Not on my watch," Dean promised. "He's never gonna lay a hand on you again."

She smiled lightly. "That's kind of ye to say."

"I mean it, Rowena."

Seriousness crossed his handsome features. Rowena couldn't help staring into those eyes, so green and beautiful, full of determination to ensure her safety. It felt good to be cared for for once in her life, especially when the one caring for her happened to be Dean Winchester – an alpha male, just her type, strong and gorgeous and so incredibly kind. If she wasn't still slightly trembling and if her injuries didn't hurt, she would have sworn she was in heaven, and he was an angel assigned to guide her

"When you said it was him, I wanted to kill him."

This prompted her to shoot him a look of sheer confusion. "Why?"

"'Cause he hurt you."

"That's it?"

"Isn't that enough? What he did to you… You didn't deserve it."

"Maybe I did."

"You didn't. I don't care if you talked back to him, or said he has a small dick, or whatever. There's no excuse to hit a woman."

She almost chuckled. Now that she thought about it, she could have used that as an insult. It wouldn't be far from the truth; Rowena had had lovers that had been way better endowed than Lucifer.

"Maybe it was karma for all the horrible things I've done. God knows there've been plenty."

"No," Dean insisted. "That's not how it works."

"Isn't it?"

Dean shook his head. "There's no excuse."

Maybe he was right; maybe there was no excuse for Lucifer's abuse. But it still happened, and Rowena had to learn to live with the consequences before they swallowed her whole.

"He accused me of cheatin' on him." She pondered for a moment on whether or not she should tell him. Then, deciding it wasn't worth keeping something like that a secret, for he would find out sooner or later after she gave the statement to the police, she added: "With ye."

He looked flabbergasted. "Seriously?"

"What can I say? He wasn't exactly in his right mind."

If only his accusations were true. Insults and beatings wouldn't have hurt as much if she'd thought she'd at least partly earned them.

"He's a douchebag," Dean said.

Rowena couldn't argue with that.

"Why would he even…? How…? Wha…? I mean, we've been kinda flirty lately, can't deny that, but we never…"

"I tried tellin' him that. He wouldn't listen. He'd made up his mind about me a long time ago. Called me a whore."

"Hey!" Dean warned. "You're not a whore. Don't you dare think that!"

"I don't," she said. "But he does."

"Who gives a fuck what he thinks?"

"I do. Well, did. Back when I thought he loved me. Turns out he just wanted a plaything."

Dean's thumb caressed the top of her hand. "You deserve much better than him."

"Aye," she agreed. "Took me a while to figure that out."

"It's never too late."

"It could've been for me."

"Hey, don't say that," Dean said, grabbing a hold of her hand. "I wouldn't have let it get that far."

"What would ye have done?"

"Everything in my power to get you out."

His face bore no traces of its usual playfulness. He meant every single word.

That alone was enough to warm Rowena's heart. "Everythin'?"

"Everything," he confirmed.

"Even after I said those things to ye?"

"Please!" He scoffed. "You and I call each other crazy shit all the time. Doesn't make us any less friends."

"Friends?" she questioned, unable to hide her disappointment.

He appeared to have noticed it. "Couldn't think of a better word. We're more than acquaintances. Certainly not enemies. Haven't yet progressed to lovers. That leaves us with friends."

He had a point there. Although… "Yet?"

He shrugged, his face taking on a look of mock innocence. "I'm open to possibilities."

Rowena smirked. "Are ye, now?"

"Aren't you?" he challenged.

"Maybe. Maybe not. That's the thing with possibilities – they're endless."

"Looks to me there's only two."

"Perceptive."

"It's just common sense."

"But ye're not one to brag," she teased.

"Never."

He drew closer to her and it was as though air turned to fire. The heat she hadn't felt in ages, the heat she had just now realized she'd been missing, clung to her like a second skin, like wild magic burning bright and red, awakening the long suppressed desires she'd convinced herself were long gone. She found herself craving his touch, craving the feel of his skin against hers, craving _him_ in ways she hadn't craved anyone before.

All her previous lovers were just casual affairs she'd gotten into out of boredom, out of sheer need for company her acquaintances (she refused to call those greedy, gold digging bampots friends) and family members couldn't provide. The two she'd loved, Fergus' father and Lucifer, had given har what she wanted, but when it came to need, they'd only ever managed to fulfill their own.

Dean, on the other hand, seemed like the kind of man who could make all her craziest dreams come true. A man who cared not just for himself, but for her, as well; who would never do anything short of what she wanted, what she _needed._

Unlike Lucifer, who just spouted empty promises, Dean truly did treat her like the queen she was.

He lowered his head to hers, his lips brushing against hers. Her insides exploded, a turbulent hurricane of passion and desire spreading throughout her body like deadly venom, tainting her blood and poisoning her fast beating heart.

She grabbed a hold of his hair, pulling him closer, drowning in the taste of his desire that was just as intense as hers. She let everything go, all the pain and hurt and fear; let it melt into nothingness as she submerged into his ocean of passion, letting it guide her to the light she'd been missing her entire life.

Suddenly, he pushed back, placing his hands on her shoulders as if to keep her in place.

"What?" Rowena demanded, annoyed by the interruption. Just when it was getting good, he had to ruin it.

Dean breathed, gazing into her eyes before replying: "I don't wanna take advantage."

She sighed, pushing all her self control into holding back a roll of her eyes. Leave it to him to be noble at a time like this. "Ye're not," she assured him. "I want this. I want _ye."_

"You sure?" he asked.

She gave a small nod. "Positive. I'm done with people tellin' me what I want. This is _my_ decision. If ye don't want this, that's fine, but don't for a second think _I_ don't." She cupped his cheek, tilting his head to the side so she could lock her eyes with his. "Ye in or not, squirrel boy? The choice is yers. I've already made mine."

He responded with a fiery, hungry kiss that turned her entire world upside down.

And, suddenly, she knew everything was going to be alright.

* * *

 **There you go, BewitchedSquirrel. I hope you enjoyed it!**

 **Once again, huge thanks to zoe19blink for grammar help!**


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